Eclipsed
by Jediknight6
Summary: 35 years after KotOR 2. The story of four young Jedi Knights... who were found on Earth and trained in the lost city of Atlantis. And one of them is the child of Revan and the Exile. Not intended to be canonically accurate. It's not just Star Wars in here
1. Prologue: Captured

Prologue: Captured  
Location: Daeldus Supernova, seventeen years ago

_Intercepted private HoloNet transmission. Origin: fan-fighter _Nightshield_; location: processing. Destination: light freighter _Ebon Hawk_; location: processing. Decoding encrypted data now. Playback_

"Are you safe?"

"If you mean away from immediate danger, then yes, I am safe. But he's chasing me through hyperspace, even after several false jumps."

"But you could just fight him, you could kill him. You won countless battle in the Mandalore Wars, right? You almost single handedly defeated an entire army aboard the Star Forge, right? So why should one Sith be any challenge at all?"

"That was years ago. I have grown weaker in my self-exile, while he has only grown stronger all his life. He may look like he could fall over dead at any given moment, but despite that, he is more powerful than either of us."

"Then let me help you! I'm close enough; we could rendezvous within a few hours if I turn around now. We could take him out together."

"No. Even if you were there to help me, we still probably would not prevail. No, continue your course. Don't forget that you're pregnant. Your highest concern should be for the baby, not for a grown man who's more than capable of self defense."

"But-"

"No buts. If the Force wills it, I will accept this as my fate. But right now it seems I have a fair chance of losing him. If I can't outrun him I'll change course to the nearest black hole or supernova, whichever is closer, make it look like a bad choice for a false jump, and shut down all systems a convincing distance away. And if that doesn't work, the I Nightshield /I is able stave off capital ships or even destroy one. I'll try to cause as much trouble as I'll accept and do whatever it takes to protect you… even if I have to crash into the I Onager's /I bridge."

"… You will come back to me. You must…"

"Heh… I'll do my best. Take care of yourself."

"Heed your own advice as well."

_End transmission. Voice identification confirmed. First party: Revan Shryne, former Sith Lord. Second party: Eos Sage, Jedi Exile. _Nightshield_ location triangulated: entering realspace over Kianni. Trajectory: plotting course for Daeldus. _Ebon Hawk_ location unknown: outside known space. Course locked for Daeldus. Hyperdrive reinitiated. Standby… _

Inside the dark cockpit of the _Nightshield,_ Revan Shryne was already formulating a strategy that would hopefully get his tail out of the fire. The Daeldus red giant, the one and only star within several million light-years, had gone nova almost a month ago. Its sole planet, Daeldus, had been the home of a primitive human race. They had lived oblivious to the galaxy around them and died just the same. He knew no ship could get anywhere near the dying star, not even a vessel with as powerful shielding as the captured and enhanced Republic capital ship, the _Onager,_ which was exactly why the former Sith Lord was heading there.

The streaks of starlight beyond his viewport began to shrink as his hyperdrive disengaged; light from distant stars went from sluggish, to equal to the _Nightshield's_ velocity, to normal as the craft entered realspace once again. Immediately Revan was blasted with intense light as the supernova became apparent. Throwing one arm over his eyes he felt around the cockpit with the Force for the right button, finding it instantly. The transparisteel viewport went from transparent to nearly opaque as photosensors filtered out dangerous light, returning luminosity to bearable levels. It still looked as bright as any sun, but at least his eyes wouldn't be sunburned simply by having them open. _What to do…_ he wondered as he fitted a sunvisor over his eyes, guarding them even further against the glare. _Iar will be right behind me. Is there any space junk that hasn't been fried yet?_ With advanced ocular protection he was able to spot an asteroid (or was it an asteroid?) about the size of a small cruiser, with a perfect little niche for hiding a fan-fighter. But that was much too obvious, and it would be the first place the _Onager_ turned its guns on if and when it arrived. He tried referring to his ship's scanners for a more inconspicuous hiding hole, but found the supernova had fried those sensors. He'd have to do it by eye.

He must have searched the surrounding cosmos for a minute unsuccessfully before he came up with a better idea: before Iar's vessel arrived, make a blind jump into hyperspace. It was unbelievably risky—after all, without proper coordinates he could end up flying right into a supernova like this one or a black hole, and since hyperdrive generators refused to function in a gravity well, it would accomplish just as much as staying put—but he found it a preferable fate than dying in the hands of a practically ancient Sith Lord that fumed at the very mention of his name. Besides, if he succeeded and lived, there would be no chance that the _Onager_ would be able to follow, since it would need to be in the exact same position as he was in and drop into realspace at precisely the right moment. So Revan positioned his ship so that it faced away from the supernova, launched a decoy in the opposite direction so the Sith's sensors would still register the fan-fighter in the area, said a silent prayer to every god he knew of, and activated the hyperdrive.

Starlight again became sluggish as the obsidian fighter seemingly defied the laws of physics, racing through space at many times the speed of light… Or rather, it would have if the _Onager_ hadn't dropped into realspace at that moment, tractor beam active. The unfortunate one-man craft, as well as its decoy counterpart, were instantly caught in the artificial gravity. The _Nightshield_ jerked violently as its hyperdrive abruptly shut itself down. Sublight engines slaved painfully to pull the ship free from the invisible bindings, but it wasn't nearly good enough. Revan cursed every god he'd just appealed to and turned the fighter around so that the new arrival dominated his view. It was wedge-like in design, a haunting shade of gray, with streaks of ebon paint stretching across its top and bottom. Each side had a slight indentation where it seemed a giant had placed two of its fingers when it was still molten durasteel. Turbolasers dotted its surface for defense and, more often, offense, particularly around the three shield generator housings on the exterior (there was a fourth emergency generator on the inside, in case the other three were destroyed). Ion cannons complimented the turbolasers, for when disabling a starship was preferable to destroying it. The bridge, the command deck of this mighty vessel, was recessed into the hull near the back, to prevent it from being so easy a target. This was the _Onager,_ the vessel that Revan had been running from for many years, not out of fear, but due to his duty to stay alive: his duty to his wife and unborn son. _I'm not ready to leave either of you yet,_ he told himself for the hundredth time while his mind formulated several plans at once, just like it did in the Mandalorian Wars. _And I've still got a few tricks left._ Most victims of a tractor beam would advise another to shut off his engines and allow himself to be pulled in, since trying to run would merely wear out your sublight engines. Some would counsel against that, saying it's better to go out fighting, if you could consider trying to run away a fight. Revan was about to heed to neither perspective and assume a daring idea befitting his name: he was definitely going out fighting. Still facing the battleship, he hit the accelerator, pushing his fighter to maximum speed, following the synthetic gravity to its source. If the currently active shield generator was destroyed, there was about a five second period in which the vessel would be completely open to attack while the shield network was rerouted to another generator. The tractor beam generator was within the ship's hull, but near the surface, and it just so happened that the _Nightshield_ carried a single triachromic air-to-surface bomb, the most powerful bomb available to a craft of its size; in fact, the only thing more powerful was the main cannon of a planetary defense satellite. If he could determine which generator was active and incapacitate it, he could drop his bomb on the bow of the ship over where the generator lay. He realized long ago that it may be a much better idea to launch the bomb on the bridge, but all things considered, he did not want to take out the command deck and all but destroy the rest of the ship. It would only bring more unnecessary deaths, more lives he'd have to atone for. No, if he must destroy this Sith Lord, he had decided long ago that either or both of them would be the only ones to die.

Revan's sensors that had survived the star had already located the active shield generator: the belly-mounted bulb-like growth just behind the main hangar bay. It was an easy target, and, ironically, since it was the source of the shielding, it was the least well-shielded part of the ship; which was exactly why its position was reinforced with extra turbolaser batteries. There was also a wing of Sith fighters to guard it. Mission impossible. _No,_ Revan thought. _Mission improbable. Just like old times._ The semicircle of a matte-black fighter streaked through insanely bright space with speeds that would have been impossible were it not "hindered" so, and within seconds the kilometers between the two craft shrank to point blank range. By now the _Onager's_ crew had become suspicious and opened fire, spewing emerald energy into space, but it was just as well that they didn't fire at all, as no shot connected with anything but hard vacuum. The pivoting ball cannons on each wingtip of the fighter rotated upward as the ship passed under the other, taking aim at the bulbous stud in the durasteel hull, and began spitting crimson light. Each shot hit its mark, and, with a proton torpedo to finish it, the generator collapsed. Without hesitating, the _Nightshade_ continued its course, against the false gravity, to come above the capital ship. Unfortunately, his vessel was now slower than normal: slow enough for an ion cannon to hit it with full force. All forward motion ceased and the cockpit erupted into a frenzy of sparks and electrical discharges as every circuit in the vessel was either overloaded or completely incapacitated. He was now wholly helpless, without so much as even life support. Revan groaned, massaging his temples for the headache he could feel coming on. "Well," he said to himself, "this is why people come up with contingency plans. I just wish mine wasn't so… drastic." He watched with increasing apprehension as the main hangar bay steadily drew closer, pulling him in like the catch of the day…


	2. One: Gone From the Force

One

Gone From the Force

Location: Atlantis, present

Atlantis was the former home of a race of beings known only as the Ancients. Not only did the sprawling metropolis serve as their home island-city, it also doubled as a space ship and a sort of submersible. The Ancients were responsible for the construction of devices called Stargates on many worlds, ring-like machines that create wormholes at will, allowing for instantaneous travel across light-years' distances. This act gave them the nickname "Gate Builders." The Ancients prospered, but eventually they came to the wrong world: a world housing tall, pale, and all but immortal beings that could drain the life out of another through mouth-like growths on their palms. These beings were called the Wraith. The Wraith were not only far more numerous, they also excelled in physical capabilities and their technology rivaled even the Ancients'. On the verge of eradication, the Gate Builders submerged their great city into the ocean, activating their citywide shield to hold back the ocean water, in the hopes that someday their descendants would return to reclaim the glorious municipality. Return, because soon after the city was submerged, they used the city's Stargate to evacuate to distant Earth, making Earth's the only Stargate capable of dialing Atlantis. There they remained, and eventually evolved, not physically, but mentally, into the humans of the present. Thousands of years later (ten thousand, to be precise), humans returned to Atlantis in what began as a one-way journey, to find whatever technological advances they could in the fabled city. Over time, Jedi Master Terra Dressari, her ship badly damaged and hyperdrive totaled, crash-landed in Atlantis, leaving quite an impression. She befriended the new Atlanteans, combined their technology with hers, helped rescue an endangered expedition team, and was soon able to repair her vessel and return home. After a Sith fleet bombed a major Jedi Academy on the grassland world of Dantooine, the survivors soon learned of Atlantis and, since they did not want to reveal themselves to have survived, ventured to the Pegasus Galaxy. The journey took many weeks even in hyperspace, but when the Atlanteans learned that the newcomers were like Terra, and that Terra was even among them, they welcomed them with open arms. And so it was that Atlantis became not only a base of intergalactic operations for Earth, but also the newest and arguably most profound Jedi Academy… and the future home of the offspring of two of the most powerful Jedi yet.

Master Terra Dressari stood on Atlantis' east pier, gazing out at the city. Even after years of living here the beautiful colossus never ceased to impress her. The central towers reached up to the heavens like a cluster of obelisks attempting to pierce the clouds. The sound of the ocean waves breaking against the strange buoyant metal soothed her nerves, the sweet cool breeze playing with her hair like a curious child aiding the effect. Whenever she was troubled by something, this was where she went to seek respite. Nobody bothered her here, unless there was something urgent she needed to tend to, which was a further blessing. The only thing wrong was that the east pier was often used as a dock, so sometimes the activity of ships inhibited meditation. Other than that, it was sheer heaven as far as she was concerned.

Terra redirected her gaze out to the endless sea, watching the calm ocean waters overlap the unseen layers of the sky. The vast majority of the sky boasted bright hues of blue and just the right amount of regal cumulus clouds, but the horizon was dark and mysterious, like the depths of a hssiss' eyes. One needn't have Jedi training to predict a storm within the next few hours. _May as well enjoy it while it lasts,_ Terra said to herself, steadily seating herself on the cool metal floor. She was getting up there in years after a lifetime of rigorous activity, so some previously simple movements (such as sitting cross-legged) caused her slight discomfort. She closed her eyes, allowing the Force to wash over her, fill her body like rain in a thirsty desert.

She didn't know how long she had been meditating before she felt a sharp pain in her chest, like she was experiencing a minor heart attack. She knew better than to think her life in check, but it alarmed her far more; so much that she nearly fell into the ocean. After a scared moment the pain recessed, leaving behind a hollow feeling, as though part of her consciousness had just been removed from her body. She had experienced this only too often. It could only mean that someone, someone close to her, was gone from the Force. The most likely cause was death. Terra's insides began to churn. _Who was it this time? _she wondered solemnly, staring into the heavens. She felt near tears. Knowing someone she loved had just died was almost unbearable; not knowing whom it was only made it worse. The result was a trembling middle-aged Jedi Master. To save herself from the pain she swallowed her emotions and opened her mind, reaching out with the Force to try and feel each of her friends. She could only feel Aiden; not surprising, since he was in Atlantis, while the other people close to her were on missions in this or their distant home galaxy. She could remember walking in the Room of a Thousand Fountains in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. It seemed to be such a long time ago…

A faint swooshing sound was the only auditory warning of someone approaching, though she knew long before then that someone was coming. She could feel Aiden Hunter through the Force, and his presence did much to help her relax again. She could feel him stop just behind her, slightly to her right. "Terra," the Jedi Knight said cautiously, knowing what was going through her mind.

Terra turned slowly to face him. He had a rugged look about him; dark distraught hair, fatigued eyes, and a week's worth of facial hair. Yet underneath all the tough features was a soft core, the heart of a man who hated to see others suffering. "You felt it too," Terra stated, as though pointing out a fact hidden in the mist. "Another of our brothers is lost."

Aiden nodded slowly. "It feels as though I have many souls, and one of them just died." He advanced a little further, leaning against the thin guardrail next to her, and stared into the sparkling waters below. His expression told a hundred stories of pain, guilt, and misery, all experienced in a lifetime of about twenty-seven standard years.

Terra studied him for a moment, trying to pick out what about him it was that troubled her the most just then. "You know who it was?"

Aiden was silent for a moment, seemingly lost in the swirling waters and the ocean zephyr. "I think so," he said at last, distant as though he were on the other side of the city.

When he failed to elaborate Terra edged a bit closer, saying, almost pleadingly, "Who?"

Again it was a while before he answered. "Eos is my cousin, as I pray you know by now. She and I are… very close; dangerously close even. Just a moment ago, when we felt that death, I could also feel her immeasurable despair. There is only one solution that comes to my mind: my cousin-in-law is the one who died.

Terra was greatly surprised by this. "Revan?" she uttered incredulously. She didn't believe there was a being alive who was capable of killing the former Sith Lord, so the news of his death was most unsettling.

"I believe so," Aiden said, redirecting his gaze to the northeast pier. The city shone with divine radiance in the swiftly vanishing sunlight. "It is difficult to believe that the man who so easily defeated the Mandalorians, almost single-handedly defeated an entire Star Forge army, and defeated Darth Malak, all the while resisting the dark side, could be killed even in his state of decline. It must have been some foe…"

Terra was discomforted even further by this thought. "This does not help our emotional state, Aiden. It only proves that there is a force out there more dangerous than the Wraith."

"Sorry," Aiden said. "I was just thinking aloud. Regardless, there is no guarantee it was an unnatural death. And if it was, I'm sure Revan gave them a fight to remember." A long armistice of words ensued, broken only by the crashing of rougher waves and progressively stronger winds. The sun had vanished behind darkening clouds and the near sky looked bleak. "Oh, by the way," he said eventually, finally meeting his friend's eyes for the first time today, "the main reason I came out here was to tell you that Korral has reported in; he's in the sector and should arrive within the hour."

"That was fast," Terra remarked. "I take it all went smoothly?"

"No details yet, that waits until debriefing. But you did assign a Zora to an oceanic world. He said Manaan is almost as good a world as this one, Ahto City almost on par with Atlantis."

"Almost?"

"He likes the smell of our air better." Aiden almost chuckled at some hidden joke. "Anyway, debriefing will take place in the conference room, obviously. Well… that's it, I think." With a slight bow of respect he turned and started to leave, but remembered something. "Oh, and Doctors McKay and Weir need you in the control room. They wouldn't tell me why, but it sounded important."

"All right, thank you." But Aiden was already departing again, leaving her alone again on the pier's exterior. Terra sighed, looking up to the dreary storm encroaching on their territory, thinking of her departed friend. "Revan…" she whispered, stretching out again for any shadow of a doubt. "What did you get yourself into?" She stayed put only a moment more, and then followed Aiden to the city's interior. Her destination was the control room, to see what Rodney McKay was so anxious about this time.

Atlantis' control room was always a bustle of activity, but that wasn't surprising considering the Stargate was just a few feet away and below. The Ancient computer systems had swiftly been figured out when the first Atlantis expedition team arrived, adapting it to their own technology and vice versa. Almost everything in the city could be monitored and controlled from this room, from the primary systems (Stargate, shields, life support, et cetera) to minor sub-systems. When the Stargate was activated, by incoming or outgoing wormhole, everyone present knew of it, raising a progress-halting shield called an iris just in front of the "event horizon" when incoming Gate travelers failed to identify themselves. Which was exactly what was happening now.

Doctor Rodney McKay stood with Elizabeth Weir, the "governor" of the Atlantean "colony," in the control room, studying the screen of a laptop. "Look," he sighed, revealing his typical moodiness, "I'm not saying there's no chance of this being anything but a ruse, I'm just saying we should continue our usual precautions. Anyone can say they are whoever they want to be, as I'm_ sure_ I don't have to point out to you." He was subtly (more or less) referring to an event when someone had dialed in on an offworld mission, claiming to be Weir, when it was really a group of Stargate pirates.

Weir, who was beginning to lose patience herself, did her best to maintain a composed state. "Have you ever seen a Jedi's ID signature before?" she asked, trying to point out some logic in her somewhat biased opinion. "Or any code this complex?"

"No, which is exactly why I'm overly cautious. ID signatures aren't _supposed_ to be this complex, because you'd have to enter all that information every time you came here."

"Which wouldn't be all that inconvenient for a Jedi, considering they hardly use Stargates. Besides, maybe it's a security measure. These runes aren't like anything I've seen before."

"And nor do I need to remind you that there are countless millions of peoples out there, each with their own form of writing. They were probably just too lazy to translate, or didn't know how, or wanted to confuse us into a situation like this." McKay sighed again, clearly frustrated. "I thought you were supposed to be maintaining this city's security."

"Am I interrupting something?" Master Dressari said as she approached, dark brown robes and matching hair streaming behind her.

Weir turned to face the Jedi Master, appearing between relief and distress. "Terra," she all but screamed, knowing her preference for informality. "Good timing. We had an unscheduled incoming wormhole and received this as an IDC." She indicated the laptop screen, which displayed a series of foreign lettering. "We've been able to translate the sender, Eos Sage, but the rest is just gibberish to us. Have you seen anything like this before?"

Terra recognized it at once. "That's Basic lettering, my native lingua franca. But the message itself is in Mandalorian. How ironic…"

"Sorry," McKay said, knowing better than to lose his temper with a Jedi, "but what is Mandalorian again?"

"A warrior race of humans," Terra explained distantly, concentrating on the text. "Big on honor, battle, and glory. Eos fought against them in the Mandalorian Wars, which is why it's ironic. Their dialect is about as crude as they are…" Several silent minutes elapsed, Terra silently translating the text in her head, the hum of the iris energy shield close to the only noise around. Suddenly she declared, "Yes, it's definitely Eos. Let her in."

Weir nodded to Joseph, a tanned young American man that happened to be standing right before the DHD (dial home device, used to activate the Stargate). Joseph promptly reached out and pressed a button on the side of the console and the faint humming nose vanished in a brief batter of static, revealing the pool-like event horizon of the wormhole. It appeared to be nothing more than water in a circular container sat on its side, with small ripples emanating from a center point, and if one were to touch it that's exactly what it would feel like. The "water" cast its bright glow about the room, illuminating dark corners and dazzling glass. And through the event horizon, like a specter out of a dream, walked one woman. From this distance the only feature one could make out was slightly short blond hair, but even so, Terra knew immediately that it was her friend; she could now feel her through the Force. Without a word the Jedi Master rushed out of the control room, down the stairs, and into the Gate room before power had even been cut to the Stargate. "Eos," she greeted, slowing to a swift walk.

Something was wrong, that much was already evident. The first clue was that Eos' Jedi robes were badly damaged by tears, cuts, burns, and so forth, as was her body. Blood coated her shoulders like a sloppy paint job, though it was difficult to say if it was hers or not. Second, where the usual Eos would have a huge smile on her face at seeing her friend again at long last, this Eos wore a mask of extreme hurt and despair, near panic even, as she slowly lifted her head to gaze forlornly at Terra. Her dark green eyes were swimming with uncharacteristic tears, as though they were the oceans of Atlantis. Finally, the least obvious clue: her lightsaber, though inactive, was in hand, caught in a death grip so tight that her knuckles were white; most metals would collapse under such pressure. This change took Terra completely aback, ushering a quick gasp from the Master. "Eos," she repeated, much more softly this time. "What happened?"

These kindly spoken words sent Eos over the edge. With a choked cry she roughly embraced Terra, holding on tightly enough to hinder breathing, sobbing uncontrollably into her shoulder. "He's gone," she sputtered, her voice muffled. "Revan is…" This brought on a new wave of pain, which brought on a new volley of tears, rendering her incapable of further speech.

Terra felt almost like crying too, but she withheld it for a later time. This confirmed what she and Aiden had felt. Revan was gone; if his own wife felt it, then there was no doubt. Despite her own grief she did her best to comfort her slightly younger friend, but it hardly helped. For the first time in her life, Terra didn't know what to say. So she employed a Jedi calming technique, a combination of soothing images and Force techniques impossible for one blind to the Force to understand. Slowly the woman's sobs took on less and less force, eventually stopping altogether. By now, Aiden had arrived, and was also aghast at what he saw. But he was more drawn to her physical ailments, concerned that she may bleed to death. "She's wounded!" he shouted up to the control room, drawing the attention of Scottish Doctor Carson Beckett.

Carson stepped up to the window to get a better view, then, upon seeing all the blood, spoke quickly into a radio. "This is Carson, I need medical assistance in the Gate room ASAP," he said as he hurried out of the room, following Terra's path.

Eos had found her voice again and was trying to speak. "I need to tell you… He asked me to…"

"Not now," Terra cut in as Carson carefully pealed off her outer robe to examine her shoulders. "You'll bleed to death."

"But I…"

"Good God," Carson muttered upon seeing the extent of the injury. Blood was everywhere, skin was shredded, and bones were shattered in her left arm. Her right arm, thankfully, had been spared. "What were you hit with?"

Eos thought for a moment, recalling her last battle. "Uh… A flail, I think. If that's what you call those spiked balls on chains…"

Carson almost swore, a first for him, as a medical team rushed in with all manner of equipment. "Several fractures," he told one of the doctors. "Torn skin and muscle tissue. Doesn't look like she'll be using this arm again. And she's lost a lot of blood, you need to stop the bleeding immediately."

The doctor nodded and began applying a spray-on bandage to the afflicted areas. Eos hardly noticed the sting, as she was hanging on the edge of oblivion. "What's going to happen now…?" she whispered, but a response was useless; that sentence had sapped what remained of her energy. Her world became a total void.


	3. Two: Prelude to Dark Days

Two

Prelude to Dark Days

Location: Colorado, USA

"_How is she?"_

"_Her shoulder is too badly injured to completely repair, even with kolto tanks. If she ever regains the use of that arm, it'll be greatly inhibited. She'd be better off with a prosthesis."_

"_But she's all right? She's… in no danger of dying?"_

"_Not unless her body realizes it doesn't have enough blood to sustain itself, but don't worry. We're replacing most of the blood she lost, so no, she's in no danger of dying. I'm more concerned about you. What happened? Why did we—"_

"_Perhaps I'll tell you sometime in person. The HoloNet isn't secure enough for something like this, as we discovered only too many times. But I won't be seeing any of you anytime soon; I didn't go through all this trouble just so I could blow my cover so soon."_

"_But isn't this a little harsh? Leaving so many people in the dark like this?"_

"_It is distasteful… but it must be done. I believe they are strong enough for it; if I didn't I would be conceited, wouldn't I?"_

"_Heh… Maybe a little bit more."_

"_I have to go. Don't tell anyone about this."_

"… _I understand. Just… be careful."_

Echo High School 

An impatient youth drummed his fingers relentlessly on his desktop, wishing he could manipulate time and make the day elapse sooner. There was nothing remarkable about him: brown, slightly green, eyes were about as normal as you could get, despite the curious designs in the irises; red hair wasn't so outlandish, considering he knew of at least fifteen other people in his school alone with that hair color; scars were no big deal, and his only scar was on his left forearm and extremely faint. His unusual height was what got him the most unwelcome attention; at just over six feet, he was fairly tall for a freshman. People often pestered him about joining the basketball or even football team, but he had little love for sports, least of all football. This baffled the sport-crazy Echo High, which might partly account for why so many people left him alone. Or maybe it was something else, something he hadn't figured out yet.

A rather plain white booklet lay closed on his desk before him, its purple lettering gazing lonely up at the ceiling. It had been like that for almost half an hour; the End-Of-Course Test had finally managed to get itself some action and had demanded that once someone completed the test, they sit there, with absolutely nothing to do. They couldn't so much as read, but the usual felon of sleeping was more than welcome. This accounted for his extreme boredom. It didn't matter how hard he tried, he couldn't fall asleep at school if he wanted to. It was like it was an attempt on his life and his body refused to allow it. So he sat there instead, counting the ticks of the clock. It was dull, and by the time it finally lulled him to sleep it would be time to go.

He looked away from the portside marker board, where a Kody Baker was busy drawing some kind of samurai gunslinger with a rocket on his back, just in time to be hit full in the face by a paper ball. Several people snickered, thinking themselves inaudible, and someone apologized in a shouted whisper. The assailant was Josh, one of his closest friends. Obsidian streaks of hair draped before his cerulean eyes, creating a slightly sinister feel about him that somehow blended perfectly with his light (as in white) garb. Everyone knew him better than that, though; in fact, just about every knew him. He was really just a fun-loving, fun, and loving guy. Feigning a scowl, Kyle retrieved the paper and unwrinkled it. It read:

_List of people staying at my place:_

_Brandon_

_Becca_

_You coming?_

Kyle nodded slightly; he had suspected the note would contain something like this, though he knew not why. Without hesitating he drew his pencil and wrote: _Was the list really necessary? Yeah, I'm coming. Just don't assault me again. _Josh wasn't looking his way at the moment—time to retaliate. He squashed the note back into a ball, waited till the teacher's attention was drawn elsewhere, and let it fly. The distance was great (for a paper ball), but he had always been good at plotting trajectories in his head, which was partly why he was constantly peppered with suggestions to join the basketball team; so precise was his aim this time that the woodland projectile landed on Josh's head and stayed there, perched on his crown like the most fragile sentinel ever. But Josh thought it was some kind of insect and swatted it, right into the nearby trashcan. Confusion claimed him as he looked around, trying to discover what had used his head as the perch. His eyes settled on Kyle, who was wearing an odd expression spawned from trying to frown and smile simultaneously. His own countenance became suspicious and he whispered, "What was that?" but his voice didn't carry far enough and was swallowed into a kind of void.

Kyle had to resort to lip-reading, but such a short phrase was far from difficult. He mimed crumpling and throwing a piece of paper and jabbed his chest with a thumb; it obviously meant he threw a piece of paper. Lastly, he pointed to the rather guilty-looking trashcan, to say where it went. Josh nodded in understanding and started to retrieve it, but thought better of it when he saw the slime-like substance enveloping it. With a look of disgust he returned to silent speech. "Are you coming?"

Kyle game him a thumbs-up as affirmation and pointed to his little blue bag, suspended from the back of his seat. It was tiny and not fit for carrying schoolbooks, but he always carried all of his proportional pile of school junk himself, so it was used more for luggage. Josh nodded, the motion barely perceptible, and began to pretend none of that had happened as the teacher stood again. "All right, little buddies," Mr. Pierce said, loudly but not so loudly as to disturb other classes. "We've got about ten minutes left. Is everybody finished with the test?"

"Yes!" a semi-pervert called Eric shouted with false aggression. He stood suddenly and trotted over to Pierce, EOCT in hand.

"Sit down, Ernick," Pierce said in a fake accent, using the nickname he had bestowed upon Eric, "go ahead 'n sit down." Eric dashed to the nearest desk and literally jumped into it, sliding it a few feet with a loud grating noise and nearly toppling it. Mr. Pierce decided to ignore that and initiated a monologue, describing how he was going to pick up the tests and what he was going to do with them, and then proceeded to do such while chatter broke out across the room. Once all tests were in and taken care of, he did what he did every day: handed out gum and put on a Madonna CD, allowing free time for the remaining few minutes of school.

Josh confronted Kyle, bright eyes full of his typical mixture of emotions. "Why did you throw that in the trash?" he inquired, seating himself on a desktop.

"I didn't," Kyle replied, "I threw it at you. You smacked it into trash."

"Yeah, but did you have to hit me with it?"

"You hit me… Besides, that was kinda funny."

Josh made several incoherent muttering noises like Johnny Castaway and eyed the blue bag. "Did you bring it?"

"What was I supposed to bring?"

"The game."

"Okay," Kyle said slowly, "let me rephrase that. What was I supposed to bring?"

Josh looked thoughtful for a moment, apparently trying to find the difference in the two phrases. "Where—"

"Which game?" Kyle interrupted. "I brought several. I have…" he hefted the bag and jerked it open "…Resident Evil… Call of Duty… Jedi Academy… Rebel Strike…"

"… Knights of the Old Republic?" Josh suggested hopefully.

"… Knights of the Old Republic," Kyle agreed, showing his friend the four-disk jewel case. The artwork looked almost like a painting, but it was obviously not. "Don't get excited just because it has four disks; you only play on one."

Josh blinked. "Then… why four disks?"

"The other three are only for installing the game. All the programs won't fit with the game into one CD, so it's obviously a better idea to split the whole installation process into fourths rather than halves. Awesome game, though… Just don't go erasing any of my files."

"You're far in the game?"

"I'm far on all of them. You can play my files if you want, just don't save or delete. Uh… You do have a good computer, right?"

Josh's expression strayed dangerously close to smug. "Maybe… It's a big game, then?"

"Very big. Very good. Very funny at times. Very capable of upsetting yours truly if something were to happen to it. Very upset."

"The word very kinda loses depth when you use it so many times, don't you think?"

"Very much so."

The very electronic-sounding bell rang out minutes later, releasing the inmates—uh, students, rather—to their buses. All around the room activity increased and noise levels rose from a five to an eight as people retrieved their possessions and headed out the door, all to the send-off of Mr. Pierce shouting "Bye, little buddies!"

"Freedom!" someone in the hall shouted at the top of his lungs, clearly excited that one of the last days of school that year was done. The short hallway consisting of a guidance office, three classrooms, and the south stairwell at the end was always hectic when the final bell rang, but today was especially hazardous. One couldn't move two feet in any attainable direction without bumping into someone else; the feeling of unfamiliar flesh sometimes makes one's skin crawl.

Josh roughly poked him in the shoulder to get his attention. "Sanctuary," he said over the superfluous noise, pointing to a free spot on the wall where the lockers ended. The two gradually worked their way through the river of humans to reach the hallowed spot and stood stock still so as not to be buffeted away while waiting for their other two friends.

Rebecca was the first to arrive. She, too, was tall for her age, but not by such a degree as Kyle. Russet hair streamed about her, reaching her shoulders. Her eyes were a dazzling sapphire, comparable to blue giant stars. She was the only girl in this merry group of friends, and that mattered less than the least important thing one could possibly think of, which would mean it wasn't really the least important thing one could possibly think of. "Hey," she said brightly as she came within earshot, pressing herself against the wall as well.

Josh eyed her for a moment. "Why aren't you clapping?"

Rebecca eyed him right back. "Why would I do that?"

"Well, you're obviously happy…"

Becca nodded, getting the joke but not thinking it was that funny. "I'm just glad we won't have to worry about schoolwork in a few more days."

Kyle spoke up. "But you like band."

"I said school_work_," she replied with a slight grin. "You're in band next year too, aren't you?"

"That's the plan," Kyle agreed. "Hopefully I won't be overwhelmed by it."

"You'll be alright," she said, trying to reassure him. "It is _Beginning_ Band after all. And if you need any help, just ask."

"Then prepare for a bombardment bigger than those I used to give Matt."

"What are we talking about?" Brandon said as he reached them, panting very slightly. Currently in his seventeenth year he was somewhat short for a junior, recently cut hair not helping to exaggerate any height, but it was hardly noticeable unless one was actually looking for his height.

Kyle answered right away with "Appealing symphonic cacophonies and, more or less, verbal repetition."

"Exactly," Josh said with deliberate slowness. "Couldn't have said it better myself."

"Especially not if you tried," Rebecca said, restraining a laugh. If life were a cartoon, Josh would have had a question mark or two over his head. "I'm kidding!"

"Whatever you were talking about," Brandon cut in, noticing the diminishing crowds, "we better go before the buses leave."

"This?" Josh said with disdain, plucking a rather feminine hat off of his bed. It was bright pink and covered with flowery objects. "What is this? Just because I like girls doesn't mean I want to _be_ one. These people are totally loco, like someone else I know."

Josh's bedroom was primarily white, attesting his like of the presence of all colors. His bed was in one corner of the room, right under a window that let in generous amounts of light and rendered light bulbs all but useless on sunny days. A nice old shelf stood against the far wall, perpendicular to the door, and bore his TV and games. Several random objects seemed to have been thrown haphazardly about the chamber, sticking wherever they hit.

Brandon eyed the hat. "I dunno, I think it matches your eyes."

"I think it matches the garbage a bit better," Josh said as he headed for the door. "I'll be back."

Rebecca tossed her pack on a pile of pillows and flopped herself down on the bed. She blinked in pleasant surprise. "Best. Bed. In. The. World." Which might seem like an odd thing to say, considering it seemed to absorb her for a second.

Curious, Kyle poked the mattress with one finger; the material molded around him without incident. "Whoa," he murmured, applying more force. "I bet this cost a small fortune."

"It was worth it," Josh said from the doorway. His face was grim due to the fact that he was now wearing the hat. "Unlike leaving this room a second ago."

Brandon looked like he might burst out laughing at any given moment. It was funny enough that he was actually wearing the hat, but his expression made it even sweeter. "Now you just need a purse and dress and we'll be all set, eh?"

"He could use some mascara, too," Kyle said, trying to imagine what it would look like. He turned to Rebecca. "I don't suppose you have any."

Becca shook her head, still absorbed in the bed. "Nope. No makeup for me."

"My sister's making me wear this thing," Josh insisted, trying to sound hurt. "She's a dictator, y'know."

His sister chose that moment to shout, "Mom says dinner's ready! Get down here!"

Josh nodded. "Point proven."

"You guys have dinner early," Brandon commented, having never stayed in this house before.

"She must've ordered something. She takes her sweet time with cooking… Are we going?"

Everyone filed out of the room… Everyone except Rebecca, who was on the verge of sleep. Kyle peaked back through the door. "Coming?"

Becca groaned slightly, not wanting to get up. "Yeah," she said and reluctantly pushed herself up and out of the bed. "I call the bed tonight."


End file.
